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JV|ountain JVlelodies 



BY 



CY WARMAN 



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SOLD ON TRAINS AND AT NEWS STANDS. 

SINGLE COPIES, 50c 

PER DOZEN, $3.00 

MAIL ORDERS TO CY WARMAN, 
DENVER, COLO. 



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COPYRIGHTED BY CY WARMAN 
DENVER, COLO. 



PI^EFAGB. 



The Author offers no apology to the Public for 
the publication of these rhymes. they were inspired 
largely by nature and nature's god. 

If you have a KICK COMING, KICK HIGHER. 

THE AUTHOR. 



INDEX. 



PAGE 

Where the Flowers Talk - - - 7 

The Columbine - . - - 8 

Adown the Dusky Dell _ _ _ 9 

Creede - - - - - 10 

This Can't Be Hell - - - - 11 

Agnes, I Ivove You - - - 12 

Towns of the Mountains - - - 13 

Broken Vows - - - - 15 

I Would Know My Native Land - - 16 

A Colorado Girl - - - - 18 

Oleo and Butter - - - - 19 

Where Women Don't Go - - 20 

The Canon of the Grand - - - 22 

Summer's Gone . _ _ _ 23 
Where the Wild Flowers Catch the Dew - 24 

Gentle Annie - - - - 25 

When Other Lips - - - - 26 

From Mountain to Meadow - - 27 

Sangre de Christo - - ... 28 

Love Among the Mountains - - 29 

Sunset on Salt Lake - - - - 30 

Loch Ivanhoe _ _ . . ^i 

At Manitou - . . _ _ 32 



INDEX. V 

The Garb of the Hills ... 33 
The Thunder Bird .... 34 

The Amethyst Vein ... 35 
The Nellie Bly .... 36 

To the Golden Gate _ . _ 38 

'Mid the Mountains • - - - - 40 

It Beats Hell . . . . 41 

There is No Death - - - - 42 

Her Hand in Mine ... 43 

Sunlight - . - - . 44 

Charity . . . _ . 45 

Sic Transit Glori Mundi - - - 46 

Bad on the Bird . . _ . 47 

The Roses are Gone - . - . 48 

Winter - . . . . 49 

If I Had You - .... 50 

Be Better to God - - - - 51 

Woman's Love and Man's Love - - 52 

Here Below .... 53 

This Life is Good - - - - 54 

Asleep with the Roses ... 55 

The Whippoorwill - - - - 56 

At the Tabor .... 57 

The Miner's Lament - - - - 58 

Silver Stained - _ . _ 60 

We Ain't Had No Spring - - - 61 

A Woman and Her Tears - - 62 
The Way I Went .... 63 



Mountain Melodies. 



Where the Flowers Talk. 



I want to go where the flowers blow 

On the mountains high and hoary ; 
Where the summer winds shake the patient pines 

And the sun in its golden glory, 
Falls o'er the stream where the ripples gleam ; 

Where the shores are shoal and sandy. 
I want to walk where the flowers talk 

On the banks of the Rio Grande. 

I love the stills in the running rills — 

The willowy rills half hidden 
That lie in the lap of the gentle hills — 

In the lap of the hills unchidden. 
I love the leas where the honey bees 

Are making sweets from the clover, 
And when I walk where the flowers talk 

I just feel good all over. 



MOUNTAIN MEI.ODIES. 



The Columbine. 



Sweet Marie, here's a columbine, 

The summer can surely spare it. 
See ! Here's a delicate twig to twine, 
To braid in this beautiful hair of thine. 
Sweet Marie, here's a columbine — 

Take it, my queen, and wear it ! 

Waved by the wind in the summer time ; 

Wet by the summer showers ; 
Blown in the balm of this beautiful clime, 
Over our heads where the hills are rime ; 
Waved by the winds in the summer time — 

Fairest of forest flowers. 

For I have brought you this boutonniere, 

Plucked from the hills above you, 
To weave in the waves of your beautiful hair, 
Or wear in your breast where the love songs are. 
I have brought you this boutonniere — 

Take it, because I love you. 



MOUNTAIN MEI^ODIES. 



Adown the Dusky Dell, 



Behind the mossy mountain tip 

Sinks the setting sun, 
Aslant the shade the swallows dip, 

The summer day is done. 
The busy brook sings softly, 

Like the tinkling of a bell, 
And still and gray the shadows lay 

Adown the dusky dell. 

Across the silent summit steals 

The pale and patient moon. 
And up the vale and vegas comes • 

The balmy breath of June. 
Fraught with the sighs of summer, 

Now the softly gentle breeze, 
With tender touch has come to comb 

The tresses of the trees. 

Amid these mighty mountains 

With their heaven-touching towers, 
I stand and view with wonderment 

This grand old world of ours ; 
Whose hoary hills for ages 

Have the stubborn storms withstood, 
I feel my insignificance. 

And murmur, God is good. 



lO MOUNTAIN MEIvODIES. 



Creede. 



Here's a land where all are equal — 

Of liigli or lowly birth — 
A land where men make millions, 

Dug from the dreary earth. 
Here the meek and mild-eyed burro 

On mineral mountains feed — 
It's day all day, in the day-time, 

And there is no night in Creede. 

The cliffs are solid silver, 

With wond'rous wealth untold ; 
And the beds of running rivers 

Are. lined with glittering gold. 
While the world is filled with sorrow, 

And hearts must break and bleed — 
It's day all day, in the day-time. 

And there is no night in Creede. 



MOUNTAIN MEI/ODIES. II 



This Can't Be Hell, 



The writer of a recent book 

Makes me believe I dwell 
In what in brighter worlds they'd look 

Upon as perfect hell. 

We've lived before, he doth depose, 

When life again was given, 
The wicked all came here and those 

Quite good have gone to heaven. 

It may be so ; for I have seen 

This life so full of gloom ; 
I've almost sighed to rest me in 

The cold and silent tomb. 

And I have thought, in those dark days- 

I've been so ill at ease. 
And suffered in so many ways — 

This surely were hades. 

But when the sun comes out again 
And bathes the earth in gold. 

And song birds warble in the glen 
And nature, to unfold 

Her wond'rous beauty beckons m^ 

Down the bedaisyed dell ; 
In nature's open arms I see 
Much more of heaven then hell. 



12 MOUNTAIN MEI.ODIES. 



Agnes, I Love You ! 



I stooped and wrote upon the sand 
Along the shore, with trembling hand, 
These words that she might understand: 
Agnes, I love you ! 

The surging sea got full one day. 
And came ashore and washed away 
These words that near the waters lay — 
Agnes, I love you I 

I climbed upon a mountain high. 
Plucked up a tree, wrote on the sky. 
Above the waters, high and dry, 
Agnes, I love you ! 

I'd like to see some sloppy sea, 
Said I, slide up this canopy 
And monkey with my motto . See ! 
Agnes, I love you ! 



MOUNTAIN MEI^ODIES. I3 



Towns of the Mountains. 



When Uncompahgre's vale I view, 

From mountain's high and hoary, 
I seem to dream love's dream anew, 

And hear the old, old story. 
Chipeta, blest queen ot my breast, 

When here mine eyes first saw you, 
The Poncho perfumed wind carest 

Your sun-kist Wahatoya. 

O'er Alamosa hills we strolled 

Whose shadows seemed to beg us 
Pause where gentle Lomas rolled 

Above the Verdi Vegas. 
The soft winds shook the arboles, 

And song birds in La Jara 
Made music dulce on the breeze 

O'er anxious to Cuchara. 

Oft in these Cimarron ranges grand. 

The walks of Escalante, 
Have I caressed your sun-browned hand 

With kisses, caliente. 
Dear, good alcalde, bring her back, 

No Montes are Bonita, 
O'er whose rough Piedras there's no track 

Made by my lost Chipeta. 



14 MOUNTAIN MELODIES. 



Oh, take me to Thee, Manitou, 

My Santa Fe will guide me. 
And some day I shall be with you, 

And walk with her beside me 
Upon that blest Hermosa shore, 

So sunny and florida. 
Mine anima looks up once more, 

To seek the soul's Salida. 



MOUNTAIN MEI^ODIES. I5 



Broken Vows. 



What time these miles must lay between 

My little love and I, 
And dreary days must intervene 

E'er we may meet, Oh, my ! — 
What time I take to kneel and pray 

As only Christians can ; 
Right solemnly I sigh and say : 

"I'll be a better man." 

But when my love's elastic lips 

Are clinging close to mine, 
And thrill me to my finger tips 

Like I've been drunk with wine, 
These olden vows are irksome then 

And seem so slender, too ; 
I break them, but like all good men 

I make some more anew. 



l6 MOaNTAIN MEIvODIES. 



I Would Know My Native Land, 



There are those who praise the poet who can soar in 
starry spheres, 

And can mould his mystic phrases from the wrecks of 

other years. 
I would have my inspiration fresh from nature's open 

hand; 
I would sing a simple sonnet that a child can understand. 



There are those who seek in other climes the joys they 
might have known 

Mid the mountains and the meadows of the land they call 
their own. 

I would find the shady canons, where at night the gentle 

dew 
Comes to kiss the rose and heliotrope, when stars are all 

in view. 



I would walk the verdant valley, where the salt waves 
wash the feet 

Of the Wasatch, gazing upward where the sky and moun- 
tains meet. 

Filled with awe and admiration I would kneel upon the 
strand. 

And thank heaven for this picture even I can understand. 



MOUNTAIN MEIyODIES. VJ 



I would stand amid these mountains with their hueless 
caps of snow, 

Looking down the distant valley, stretching far away 
below; 

And with reverential rapture, thank my Maker for this 
grand, 

Peerless, priceless panorama that a child can understand. 



l8 MOUNTAIN MEI^ODIES. 



A Colorado Girl. 



She's the shining solid silver 

From humanity's rough ore ; 
She's the star that beams above us out of reach ; 

She's the lasting love-lit lighthouse 
That illumes life's lonely shore ; 

She's the precious pearl the tide leaves on the beach. 
She's the ever-paying pay-streak 

In the fissure of the heart ; 
She's the summer rose that scents the silent gloom ; 

She's the wondrous work of nature, 
I^ike the soul, our better part ; 

She's our sunlight from the cradle to the tomb. 



MOUNTAIN MELODIES. 1 9 



Oleo and Butter. 



The Oleomargarine of life 

Is the joys that fade and fleet and flutter 
Away ; that strew our paths with strife ; 

But the joy that is best for you and me 

Is the hint of a hope of a bliss to be 
That takes us from time to eternity, 

Ah, that is our life's good butter. 



20 MOUNTAIN MEIyODIES. 



Where Women Don't Go, 



The flowers that bloom in the springtime, 
And make the dull world seem so gay, 

Have never a thought in the meantime 
That bloom bringeth blight and decay. 

The glad bird that sings by the river, 

Smiling up at the blue opal sky, 
Never dreams in its joy that the river 

Of Song has adjudged it to die. 

The brooklet that babbles and blushes, 
And makes the green glen glad with glee, 

Knoweth not that it wilfully rushes 
To the silent sad shores of the sea. 

But man, while in youth's happy morning, 
When the world seems so sunny and bright. 

In the song of each bird hears a warning, 
And the brooklets are whispering " Night." 

For time follows closely behind him, 
And hurries him half out of breath, 

And the gathering gloaming will find him 
In the valley and shadow of death. 



MOUNTAIN MELODIES. 21 



Oh, why can't we be like the flowers 
That bloom in the forest so fair, 

That live through the sweet summer hours, 
With never a sorrow or care ? 

Of course, we have heard the old story, 
That down in the dim vista of years 

A woman took gladness and glory 
And sold it for sorrow and tears. 

That Eden's fair blossoms were blighted 
By the dread serpent Satan's vile breath ; 

That 'twas there that the words were indicted 
"The wages of sin shall be death." 

But if woman has brought all this sorrow, 
And filled this wide world full of woe, 

I would not exchange it to-morrow 
For a heaven where women don't go. 



22 MOUNTAIN MEI.ODIKS. 



The Canon of the Grand. 



I'm going to paint a picture with a pencil of my own ; 

I shall have no hand to help me; I shall paint it all 

alone. 
Oft I fancy it before me, and my hopeful heart grows 

faint, 
As I contemplate the grandeur of the picture I would 

paint. 

When I rhyme about the river, the laughing, limpid 

stream, 
Whose ripples seem to shiver, as they glide and glow and 

gleam; 
Of the waves that beat the boulders that are strewn 

upon the strand. 
You will recognize the river in the Canon of the Grand. 

When I write about the mountains, with their heads so 

high and hoar. 
Of the cliffs and craggy canons, where the waters rush 

and roar ; 
When I speak about the walls that rise so high on either 

hand, 
You will recognize the rockwork in the Canon of the 

Grand. 

God was good to make the mountains, the valleys and 
the hills, 

To put the rose upon the cactus, the ripple on the rills; 

But if I had all the words of all the worlds at my com- 
mand 

I couldn't paint a picture of the Canon of the Grand. 



MOUNTAIN MEI.ODIES. 23 



Summer's Gone, 



Summer's gone. Ah, soon the sea 
Will miss my summer love and me. 
The soft sea- waves that used to float 
Around her form and kiss her throat 
Will sigh and seek the shore, and then 
Flow back into the gulf again. 
The summer's gone. 

Summer's gone. The robin's trill 
Will soon be hushed, and o'er the hill 
The aspen tree, in tints of gold, 
Will shiver in the coming cold ; 
But when we part, how sweet 'twill be 
To know that she's in love with me, 
Tho' summer's gone. 



24 MOUNTAIN MEI.ODIES. 



Where the Wild Flowers Catch the Dew. 



I have stood beside the ocean; 

I have walked upon the beach, 
Where the shells and shiny seaweeds strew the strand ; 
"Where a sense of awe and wonderment 

Bereft me of my speech, 
As I watched the mighty murmurer expand. 

I have felt the same weird awfulness 

More strangly wild and sweet, 
"When clinging to the cliff with foot and hand ; 
I have looked down in the Royal Gorge 

At the iron horse so fleet, 
That was dashing down the Denver & Rio Grande. 

I love the crags and canons, 

The laughing, rippling rill, 
And the Colorado sky, so bright and blue ; 
"Where the mountains in the moonlight 

Stand motionless and still — 
"Where the heliotrope and hop vines catch the dew. 

I love the little flowers, 

For they tell us o'er and o'er. 
That there's hope for those who're good, beyond the 

grave. 
I should like to find their fragrance 

'Mong the seaweeds on the shore, 
And their language in the music of the wave. 



MOUNTAIN MEI.ODIES. 25 



Gentle Annie. 



Now the restless hand of nature 

Reaches out to shift the scene, 
And the brooks begin to warble in the dell ; 

And the waking fields are fluflfy 
And the meadow lands are green, 

And the tassles on the trees begin to swell. 

Now the young man finds his fancy 
Turning tow'rd the things of time, 

And the miner's lightly turning tow'rd the trail; 
And when we would be prosy 

We are drifting into rhyme — 

It is springtime, gentle Annie, in the vale. 

Winter now no longer lingers 

In the love-lit lap of spring; 
See, the honey bees are humming in the air; 

There's a gleam of growing gladness 
'Bout the fields and everything, 

And a hidden hint of summer everywhere. 

Now the naked hills are hidden 

'Neath a garb of gaudy hue, 
And the tramps are growing restless in the jail; 
All the woodland melts in melody 

And everything is new. 
It is springtime, gentle Annie, in the vale. 



26 MOUNTAIN MELODIES. 



When Other Lips. 



When other lips their love shall own, 

The* other lips may lie ; 
Say that thou art my love alone. 

And wink the other eye. 

And when the minister shall stand — 

Make both of us just me, 
We'll step aboard " The Overland " 

And go and find the sea. 



MOUNTAIN MEIvODIES. 7.^ 



From Mountain to Meadow. 



When God had reared the rugged walls 

'Round Utah's verdi vales; 
Then man came on his mission and 

He laid two shining rails, 
O'er which, in perfect palace cars, 

Humanity is whirled 
At sixty miles an hour through 

This wonder of the world. 

From frozen frigid mountains, with 

Their polished peaks of snow, 
To fields of waving golden grain 

And meadow lands below, 
Through gardens in whose presence even 

Paradise would pale. 
At sixty miles an hour we 

Are whirled along the rail. 



28 MOUNTAIN MEIvODIES. 



Sangre de Christo. 



Sangre de Christo, let me trace 
The beauties of thy furrowed face, 
While poncha-perfumed summer breeze 
Makes music in thine arboles ; 
And, as I look, thine every peak 
To me, in silence, seems to speak : 
Sangre — the blood that flowed so free ; 
Christo — the Christ on Calvary. 
Sangre de Christo, bright monte vista, 

Thy cloud-piercing peaks shall my monument be ! 
When I am sleeping where thy shades are creeping, 

Sangre de Christo, wilt thou shelter me ? 
I see upon thy riven side 

Great rifts through the rivers flow ; 
And they tell, too, how Jesus died, 

As down to seek the sea they go ; 
And through the verdant vale they sing 
The praises of the risen king : 
Sangre — the blood that flowed so free ; 
Christo— the Christ on Calvary. 



MOUNTAIN MEIvODlES. 29 



Love Among the Mountains. 



In a sequestered spot my love and I, 

Hand clasped in hand, stood dreaming love's sweet 
dream, 

Watched from the cragy cliff the eagle fly, 

And heard the far off murmur of the stream. 

Ah ! Happy soul in solitude that sips 

From this grand cup of nature sent from heaven — 
*' But I," said I, "from your red rosy lips, 

Quaff sweetest sweets by God or nature given. 

"Hush, Hush!" she said, and dropped her dusky 
head, 

" Who knows what eyes are turned upon us here?" 

"The angels see, and say not that it's wrong," I said, 

And from her drooping lashes kissed a tear. 



30 MOUNTAIN MEI.ODIES. 



Sunset on Salt Lake. 



With awe I watch the sun go down 

Across the great Salt Lake ; 
The mountains don their golden crown, 
The soaring seagulls circle 'round, 

The gentle billows break. 

And when I scan what's made for man, 
To make his heart grow glad, 

With wonderment my heart I hush ; 

I feel the flush of shame's hot blush, 
Because my soul is sad. 



MOUNTAIN MELrODIES. 3I 



Loch Ivanhoe. 



Up near the mountain's craggy crest, 

The mighty moguls strong and proud — 
The snow-drifts beating 'gainst their breast- 

With pointed pilots pierce the cloud. 
High mountains seeming little hills 

Bmboss the spreading plain below, 
And rivers look like laughing rills 

As down the distant vale they flow. 

Here in a weird cold wintry grave. 

Wrapped in a marble shroud of snow, 
With not a ripple, not a wave, 

Calml)^ sleeps Loch Ivanhoe. 
But with the coming of the spring 

The little flowers will bud and blow 
And gladsome songs the birds will sing, 

Along the banks of Ivanhoe. 



32 MOUNTAIN MEIvODIES. 



At Manitou, 



A dreamy hush has settled o'er the vale ; 

Pike's lofty peak shuts out the sunset's ray ; 
In robe de nuit I tremble and turn pale, 

My mirror tells me I am growing gray. 

I must not sit with idle, empty hands ; 

I'm still quite young ; there's much that I can do ; 
I will away, e'en tho' the season wanes ; 

I'll go and make a mash at Manitou. 



MOUNTAIN MELODIES. 33 



The Garb of the Hills. 



Go visit the hills in the spring-time, 

When the little buds burst on the trees, 
And the perfume of pinon and wild flowers 

Is borne on the breath of the breeze ; 
When the rivulets leap from the snowlands. 

As down toward the valley they sing, 
To gladden the rose-laden low-lands — 

Go visit the hills in the spring ! 

And then, when the summer is over, 

And the dead leaves are strewn o'er the land ; 
When the blossoms have dropped from the clover, 

A garment more gorgeous and grand 
Is worn by the hills. True, the verdure, 

The green and the freshness of spring 
Have changed — the flowers have faded — 

The song-birds are ceasing to sing. 

But look ! in the morn, when the sunlight 

First flashes its rays o'er the range, 
Ever changing anon till the wan light 

Of evening is on — note each change — 
Blends the fire and flame of the oak tree 

With the gold of the aspen so tall ; 
All the radiant rays of the rainbow 

Are worn by the hills in the fall. 



34 MOUNTAIN MEI.ODIES. 



The Thunder Bird 



Wa-Ka-Ta and his Lauuna 

Stood at twilight by the trail. 
They had come to see the "Thunder Bird" 

That bends athwart the vale. 
When at last a light shone o'er them, 

Through the drab and dewy dawn ; 
With a crash it flashed before them, 

And the "Thunder Bird" was gone. 

'Twas the U. P.'s famous flyer, 

That these frightened people saw ; 
Sending forth a flood of fire 

O'er the chieftain and the squaw. 
Now each night these patient people 

Watch beneath the starry sky, 
Till the dawning of the morning, 

When the "Thunder Bird" goes by. 



MOUNTAIN MELODIES. 35 



The Amethyst Vein, 



The sun o'er the summit is bringing 

Chilled roses to life on the lea ; 
The rivers are laughing and singing, 

And slipping away tow'rd the sea. 

The winds in the cedars are sighing, 
Their summer songs rhyme with the rills ; 

The miners are patiently trying 
The traces that hide in the hills. 

The tremulous tramways are creaking 
'Neath the weight of each silvery train ; 

The men in the mountain are seeking 
The source of the Amethyst vein. 



36 MOUNTAIN MEIvODIES. 



The Nellie BIy. 



A maiden, to Chicago bound, 

Cried, " Bissell, do not tarry, 
"And I'll give thee a golden crown 

" To fly me o'er the prairie ! " 
"And who be ye this trip would try, 

"And who's his jags, the flunkey?" 
" Oh, I'm the girdler, Nellie Ely, 

"And this, my Indian monkey." 

"I'll send a message, if you'll go." 

"Ah, no ! " he cried, " don't wire ; 
" The telegraph is far too slow ; 

"Just step aboard the flyer." 
Then looking in her eyes of brown, 

"I go, my queen, all hunky, 
"But 'tis not for your golden crown, 

" Nor is it for your monkey. 

" But see well to thy wardrobe, lass ; 

"There'll be some lightning changes 
"From California's field of grass 

" To Raton's rocky ranges ; 
"From Glorietta's polished peaks 

"To the warm Arkansas valley. 
"We'll do in days what once took weeks.'* 

"I understand," said Nellie. 



MOUNTAIN MEIyODIES. 37 



Then, o'er the track, the special sped, 

And o'er the wire the warning ; 
The mile-posts from her pathway fled, 

L/ike dewdrops in the morning ; 
Across the hill and down the dell, 

Past station after station ; 
The muffled music of the bell 

Gave voice to each vibration. 

Swift speeds the steed of steel and steam, 

And where the road lies level 
The train sweeps onward like a dream, 

Past palace and past hovel. 
And o'er the prairie, cold and gray, 

There falls a flood of fire. 
While orders flash for miles away : 

"Take siding for the flyer." 

The engine seems to fairly float, 

Her iron sinews quiver. 
While swift, beneath her throbbing throat, 

The rails rush like a river. 
Upon the seat the engineer. 

Who knows her speed and power, 
Sits silently without a fear 

At sixty miles an hour. 



38 MOUNTAIN MEIvODIES. 



To the Golden Gate. 



"Mr. Gould," said Mr. Manvel, 
As they sat 'round the hearth, 

"The Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe 
is the longest road on earth." 

Said Mr. Gould to Manvel, 

"Keep your eye on me, 
Lest I might tie your Nellie Bly 

To the tail of my U. P." 

"Mr. Gould," said Mr. Manvel, 
"You'll never see that day; 

You'll never see the great U. P. 
Absorb the Santa Fe." 

"Mr. Perkins," said Mr. JefFery, 

"I'll tell you what I'll do; 
I'll give the handjof the Rio Grande 

To the great C. B. & Q. 

"Mr. JefFery," said Mr. Perkins, 
As o'er the track they whirled, 

"Your little line will then make mine 
'The Scenic Route of the World.' " 



MOUNTAIN MELODIES. 39 



"Mr. Jeffery," said Mr. Palmer, 

"Give me 3'our other hand; 
I'll break away from the Santa Fe 

And flirt with the Rio Grande." 

Said Huntington to Palmer, 

"The Scenic Route is great; 
Now all join hands with the Rio Grande 

And dance to the Golden Gate." 



40 MOUNTAIN MEI.ODIES. 



Mid the Mountains. 



There's a charm about the mountains 

That you never can forget, 
If you linger in their shadows for a day ; 
And you'll find your troubled bosom 

Filled with sorrow and regret 
When the time has come to take yourself away. 

When you seem to' sigh for sugar 

In the coffee of your life ; 
And grief down in your pathway seems to swoop ; 
Just go down to the depot 

With your sweetheart or your wife, 
And take a little turn around the " Loop," 



MOUNTAIN MElvODIES. 4I 



It Beats Hell. 



Some people seem never to tire 

Of telling the world what they know 

About the great gulf filled with fire, 
That burns in the bad world below. 

They seem to forget there's a heaven 
With sun-lands and soft summer seas — 

That great goal for which we have striven- 
They love so to harp on hades. 

To the child the sweet voice of a mother 
Means more than the chastening rod ; 

Preach less of the ills of the other 
And more of the goodness of God. 

I'd rather be drawn than be driven 

To the land where the good only dwell ; 

Then let us preach more about heaven, 
Because it is better than hell. 



42 MOUNTAIN MEIyODIES. 



There !s No Death, 



There is no death ! 

The flowers bloom ; 

Their sweet perfume 
Floats o'er the night — 
The hills are white. 

The summer birds have sped away, 

The summer days are dead, they say, 
But when the spring comes back the wren 
Sings sweet, the flowers bloom again. 

There is no death ! 

We fall asleep 

And wake to weep. 
Youth's happy springtime wears away 
With voices weak, our hair grows gray, 

But often that last sleep, ah then. 

We know that man must live again. 
There is no death. 



MOUNTAIN MEIvODIKS. 43 



Her Hand in Mine. 



Maud and I sat playing poker 
While the rest enjoyed the dance ; 

Every time I held the joker 
Cupid shied his little lance. 

"George," said Maud, "I'd like to bet you ; 

I've a better hand than thee." 
"Good," I said, " 'f I win I'll get you ; 

If you win, then you'll get me." 

"Cards," said Maud, and through the laces 

Dimly shone her form divine. 
"Maud," I said, "I've got four aces — 

Put your little hand in mine." 



44 MOUNTAIN MEI.ODIBS. 



Sunlight. 



With soft caress her hand I press, 
While to her fair face rushes 

A fiery flood of hot heart's blood 
That bursts and blooms in blushes. 

Her eyes divine upon me shine — 
With trembling tones I tell her 

That she illumes this life of mine, 
Ivike sunlight in a cellar. 



MOUNTAIN MEIvODIES. 45 



Charity. 

Not alone those in the palace 
From the cold and hunger free — 

Not alone those in the hovel 
Are in need of charity. 

Shake the highways and the fly ways, 
Go and seek the slums of sin, 

That abound along the by-ways ; 
Knock, and when they let you in. 

Stoop and lift your fallen sister, 
Once as spotless as the snow. 

Tell her how the Lord has missed her, 
From the vineyard here below. 

Bid her go and smell the roses 
That are blooming on the bluff, 

Bre the life of sorrow closes. 
Lift the fallen— that's the stuff. 



46 MOUNTAIN MEIvODIES. 



Sic Transit Gloria Mundi, 



A red rose grew by the garden gate, 
And sweetly scented the silent gloom, 

When the city slept — when the hour was late, 
The night wind wafted its pure perfume 

Up to my window, and o'er my bed, 

Till I was in love with the rose so red. 

But 1 think now, perhaps it's wrong 
To love these things that only bide 

A few brief days, with a love so strong ; 
For folding its petals the red rose died ; 

And then I sorrowed and sighed and said 

"Life is lonely, my rose is dead." 

And then ere long another rose 

Bloomed in life's way — a human flower ; 

And it brought to me such sweet repose. 
And held me hard with a hidden power, 

And soothed my soul that was worn with care. 

Till I was in love with the rose so rare. 

And that fair flower that I loved so long. 
With a love that was never satisfied — 

That I loved with a love so strangely strong — 
Folded its soft white hands and died ; 

Again I sorrowed and sighed and said : 

"Ivife is lonely, my love is dead." 



MOUNTAIN MEI/ODIES. 47 



Bad on the Bird. 



A rash little robin sailed over the sea, 
And he lit on a tree-twig and gazing at me, 
He softly and silently folded his wing 
And said, in a whisper, "I came here to sing." 
"You pose as a poet," the little bird said. 
"Then why don't you warble and wake the dead 
Fields and flowers that slumber. Warble and bring 
The lilies to life again. Why don't you sing? " 
I looked at the snow-drift that lingered around 
The fences and trees, where the frost in the ground 
Seemed to keep it from melting and I saw not a thing, 
Save the bird that gave any assurance of spring. 
I was just about telling the bird what a joke 
It would be if the spring didn't come, when there broke 
O'er the valley a storm, and the elements played 
Hail on his plume till his feathers were frayed. 



(j.8 MOUNTAIN MEIvODlES. 



The Roses Are Gone. 



The roses are gone from the gardens : 

The meadows are barren and brown ; 
The dry withered leaves from the shade trees 

Are drifting and eddying down 
In my pathway ; the mountains are hoary, 

There's nothing that speaks of the spring. 
The summer is gone with its glory, 

The birds are too saddened to sing. 

And how like our lives are the seasons — 

The bright days of childhood the spring ; 
The youth is the rose-scented summer ; 

The sear days of autumn should bring 
Contentment ; they should not be dreary, 

Tho' our cheeks have forgotten to glow. 
The winter brings rest for the weary 

And how like a shroud is the snow ! 



MOUNTAIN MELODIES. 49 



Winter. 

'Tis winter now ; the frozen hills 
Are slumbering in robes of w^hite, 

The wind from out the woodlands chills 
My blood, and silently at night 

The pale, cold moon comes out to creep 

Across the vale, where roses sleep. 

How sweet to know that time will bring 
Fresh flowers. That the sleeping rose 

Will quicken with the touch of spring, 
And waking from its long repose 

Will bloom again, and all the earth 

Be filled with merriment and mirth. 



50 MOUNTAIN MELODIES. 



If I Had You 



If I had you, at Christmas time, 
When other men with able arms 

Caress their holdings ; I would climb 
The Christmas-tree — and all the charms 

And gifts that on its branches grew 
Lay at your feet— if I had you. 

If I had you when twilight's shade 
Casts ghostly shadows o'er the vale. 

When sunset's gold begins to fade 
And little stars shine dim and pale ; 

I know so many things I'd do 
In twilight's shade — if I had you. 



MOUNTAIN MEI.ODIES. 5 1 



Be Better to God. 



At the back of the town 
There's a gray granite wall 

Illumed by electrical light ; 

So grand and majestical, 
Towering and tall, 

Reaching far away into the night. 

And the evergreen arboles 

Up near the crest, 
When the moon in her heavenly trail, 
Sweeps swiftly and silently 

Out toward the west, 
Through shadows down over the vale. 

The beauties of nature 

vSo dazzling by day, 
When the, sun sinks away o'er the hill, 
Lose none of their grandeur — 

They fade not away — 
But multiplied stay with us still. 

Just think of the good things 

That heaven has sent. 
And now as like pilgrims we plod 
Adown toward the valley. 

We ought to repent — 
We ought to be better to God. 



52 MOUNTAIN MEI/ODIKS. 



A Woman's Love. 



When the fields are all frozen, barren and brown, 

When the flowers bloom over the lea, 
When the sun comes up and the sun goes down. 
When I live in the country or live in the town. 
My darling, I think of thee. 



A Man's Love. 



When the sea-gull is skimming the surf of the slough, 

And soars away over the sea ; 
When the briny billows are black and blue, 
When I haven't anything better to do, 

My darling, I'll think of thee. 



MOUNTAIN MELODIES. 53 



Here Below. 



You can talk about your honey- 
Suckle home beyond the sky, 

Your sun-kissed over yonder, 
And your blooming by and by ; 

Of the silver waves that warble 
Up against the golden shore ; 

Of your heathery hereafter. 
And your endless evermore, 

But if you've a lot of rapture 
And would like to let it go, 

Just sift a little sunshine 
In the shadows here below. 

Don't cluster up y-our kisses 

For my cold and clammy brow. 
This life is long and lonely — 

Come and let me feel them now. 
It's all right to lay up treasures 

In the realms where they won't rust ; 
And to figure on the future, 

And to try to put your trust 
In Him who made the Universe; 

But it won't hurt, I know, 
To sift a little sunshine 

In the shadows here below. 



54 MOUNTAIN MKlyODlES. 



This Life is Good. 



When meads and glades and everything 

Put on the gaudy garb of spring ; 
When fragrant flowers scent the air 
And birds make music everywhere, 

I say, while wandering in the wood. 

This life is good. 

When roses rest in winter's tomb 

And all the earth is garbed in gloom, 
At eventide about the hearth 
I sit, and say, despite the dearth 

Of sun and sunset down the wood, 

This life is good. 



MOUNTAIN MEI^ODIES. 55 



Asleep With the Roses. 



I said unto the brooklet 

That murmered in the mead, 
Pray, what's j'our rush, fair rivulet? 

The forest flowers need 
Your music. Said the brooklet : 

There is no rest for me ; 
My life came from the ocean, 

I go back to the sea. 

I asked the forest flower 

That blossomed in the wood, 
Whose life lives but an hour. 

And it too, understood 
That 'twas this dreary footstool 

That gave the flowers birth. 
It said: When life is over 

I go back to the earth. 

I asked the aged parson 

If some day we must die 
And sleep among dead flowers ? 

The parson answered. Aye ; 
We sleep, but no man dieth. 

Nor flowers in the glen ; 
But when that sleep is over 

This life shall live again. 



56 MOUNTAIN MEI.ODIES. 



The Whippoorwill, 



Last night in silence and alone, 

Across my window sill 
1 leaned, the moon half hidden shown, 

I heard the whippoorwill. 

My memory strayed to boyhood days. 
With boyhood's hopes and fears — 

For that lone bird I had not heard 
For half a dozen years. 

Winged spirit of the gloaming, 

Thy life is like mine own — 
A life of shade and sadness, 

So dreary and so lone. 

Must all our life be sadness, 

Be the leaflet green or sear ? 
And canst thou sing save when thy wing 

Is wet with heaven's tear? 

For in the gloam, dark as its tomb. 
This lone bird takes his flight — 

He wings his way and sings his lay 
In the holy hush of night. 



MOUNTAIN MEI,ODIES. 57 



At the Tabor. 
After Meredith's Aux Italien. 



At the Tabor it was, at the comedy there, 

And she looked like a diamond in hock that night, 

With the chestnut rose in her bright red hair, 
And her face so fair and white, 

I was here and there was she : 

I was up m the gallery. 

Of all the plays Hoyt wrote for fun. 

The best to my mind is "A Texas Steer ;" 

Where the ranger soothes with a gattling gun ; 
The cowboy on his ear. 

I was here, and there my queen. 

With only a dollar' n a quarter between. 

The world is filled with folly and sin, 
And I must anchor where I can cling ; 

For beauty is easy enough to win. 
But a dollar's a diflfereut thing. 

Oh, if she'd only look up to me ; 

In my high place in the gallery. 



58 MOUNTAIN MEI.ODIES. 



The Miner's Lament. 



O'er the treacherous trail I've traveled 

For near a dozen j^ears, 
I have sought the hidden treasure — 

I have lived on hopes and fears, 
And the dreams I dreamed at midnight 

On the perfumed pinon bow ; 
Were, I fancy, fairer — sweeter 

Than the dreams I'm dreaming now. 

I have been to see the city — 

I have sat beside the sea. 
And have heafd its mystic music ; 

But it brings no bliss to me. 
I am lone ; I miss the melody 

Made by the mountain winds ; 
As they creep across the craggy 

Crest and dally with the pines. 

'May be wrong to be ungrateful 

For the good things God has given ; 
'May be wrong to under-estimate 

The blessings sent from heaven ; 
But the joy that's iu the seeking 

Of the wealth beneath the ground 
Is a joy the miner loses 

When the hidden treasure's found. 



MOUNTAIN MEI,ODIES. 59 



So I leave these treasured millions 

And again my feet I turn 
Toward the silent, snowy mountains, 

For my restive soul doth yearn 
For the mournful, mystic melody 

Made by the mountain winds, 
And the scent of summer wild flow'rs 

And the perfume of the pines. 



6o MOUNTAIN MEI/ODIES. 



Silver Stained, 



I am weary, said the miner, • 

And my limbs are growing cold ; 
I am weary of this seeking 

After silver. I am told 
That the dollar of our daddies 

Is a dream of something fled, 
And that silver in the Senate 's 

Just about as good as lead. 

I had learned to love the mountains 

As the sailor loves the sea, 
As the song birds love the sunlight. 

As the flowers love the lea. 
But I'm weary, Oh, so weary, 

I would lay me down and rest 
Where the soft wind shakes the cedars, 

Near the mountain's craggy crest. 

I can see our silver dollar 

Slowly driven to disgrace ; 
There's a mark upon her forehead 

And a film before her face. 
I am weary of this waiting ; 

I would lay me down to rest, 
Where the soft wind shakes the cedars 

Near the mountain's craggy crest. 



MOUNTAIN MEIvODlES. 6l 



We Ain't Had No Spring. 



Man's a chump to set and rhyme 
'Bout this soft Italian clime — 

Sunny skies, so blue and bright ; 

Sky's all right, but out of sight — 
Summer birds with broken wing. 
Some are birds that want to sing — 
We ain't had a bit of spring. 

Sun comes out and then goes back ; 
Horses waiting on the track. 

Summer's here? We don't know where- 

There's no music in the air. 
Spring's all scrambled with the fall — 
I think Foster's got his gall — 
We ain't had no spring at all. 



62 MOUNTAIN MEI.ODIES. 



A Woman and Her Tears. 



I like to see a woman when 

Her sweet face wears a smile — 
To tell the truth, I like to see 

A woman all the while ; 
But in all of my experience, 

And I've been here for years. 
No woman ever wins me like 

A woman in her tears. 

She seems to come and clu-ter in 

My confidence and sue, 
And I catch her grief as gently as 

The roses catch the dew ; 
Then I feel my heart is melting, 

And soon it disappears, 
And I know it's gone to visit 

With the woman in her tears. 



MOUNTAIN MEI^ODIES. 63 



The Way I Went. 

Last night as I lay sleeping 

Upon my dawny bed, 
The strangest, strangest vision 

Came drifting through my head. 

I dreamed I went to heaven, 

Saint Peter said to me, 
"What brought you here ? " I answered, 

"I came by the U. P." 



R 



io Grande Western 
Railway 



npHE only Standard Gauge Route penetrating the heart of 
* the Rocky Mountains. The only line passing directly 
through Salt Lake City to and from Pacific Coast. The 
only line otfering passengers the choice of three routes 
through the Rocky Mountains, the scenery along the hne of 
either being the the marvel of two continents 



The only line running solid trains between Denver, 
Pueblo and Colorado Springs, and Salt Lake City and 
Ogden. The only line offering passengers of all 
classes Free Reclining Chair Cars between Denver 
and Salt Lake City and Ogden 



In the development of Utah and her magnificient resources 
the Rio Grande Western has always taken the lead. 

See that your Freight is routed via Rio Grande Western 
Railway. And that your Tickets read the same way. 

• • • 

S. C. DODGE, V. P. CASS/US C. SMITH, 

General Manager, Ass't to General Manager, 

DENVER, COLORADO. 

J. H. BENNETT, A. E. WELBY, 

Gen' I Pass. & Ticket Agent, General Superintendent, 

SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH. 



"You have never done Colorado properly, unless you have 
made the trip over the World's Famous Loop."— Knight Templar 



" The World's Famous Loop " 



WONDERFUL 

ENGINEERING 




SUBLIME 
SCENERY 



A DELIGHTFUL EXCURSION TRIP 

ONLY 58 MILES FROM DENVER. 




THE LOOP, ABOVE GEORGETOWN, COLO. 



S. H. H. CLARK, 

PREST. A GEN'L MGR. 



E. DICKINSON, 

ASS'T GEN'L MGR. 
E. L. LOMAX, GEN'L PASS. A. TICKET AGENT. 

OMAHA, NEB. 



geo. ady, general agent, 
1703 Larimer Street Denver, Colorado 



3) 



. . The 

enver & Rio Grande 

Railroad Company 



SUMMER TOURS IN THE ROCKY 
MOUNTAINS 



'the scenic line of the WOLRD" 



The Denver & Rio Grande Railroad offers 
to Tourists in Colorado, Utah 
and New Mexico 
the . . . 



GHOIGEST HESOHTS 

And to the Trans-continental Traveler the 
FINEST SCENERY 



Double Daily Train Service with Through Pullman Sleepers and 
Tourist Cars between 

• S^LT L^KIE OITY • 
SAN FRANCISCO and LOS ANGELES 



E. T. JEFFERY, A. S. HUGHES, 

President and Gen' I Manager. Traffic Manager. 

S. K. HOOPER, Gen' I Passenger and Ticket Agent. 
DENVER, COLORADO. 




The Midland Route 



There's not a solitary 
flower, 
From these grand moun- 
tains springing — 

Up where the snowy sum- 
mits tower; 
There's not a brooklet 
singing— 

There's nothing made 
Of shine or shade 
That shimmers for a minute — 
There's not a gleam 
Of poet's dream 

Without "The Midland's 'in it.'" 



soiii Trains mm an coioraio 
ano lllah Poigts. 



Pullman Palaee Sleeping Gars Without Change. 



ASK THE TICKET AGENTS FOR PARTICULARS OR 
SEND FOR ADVERTISING MATTER. 



H. COLLBRAN, 



GENERAL MANAGER, 

COLORADO SPRINGS, COLO. 



CHAS. S. LEE 

GEN'L PASS. AGENT, 

DENVER, COLO. 






Burlington 
Route 



Burlington 
Route 



The Chicago and St. Louis Specials, 

Leaving Denver daily at 9:00 a m. and reaching St. Louis 
at 1:25 p. m. and Chicago at 2:1 5 p. m. the next day, are 
designed for the accommodation of through travel from 
Denver eastward. The remarkably fast time 

27 HOURS, DENVER TO ST. LOUIS 

28 HOURS, DENVER TO CHICAGO 

is not attained by any excessively high rate of speed, but 
by continuous long distance runs and stopping only at 
the more important stations — hence is made every day with 
regularity and perfect safety. A popular feature in con- 
nection with these trains is, that passengers are 

Only One Night on the Road, 

and resch their destination many hours in advance of other 
roads. Both trains are vestibuled throughout, are con- 
structed after the latest and most approved designs of the 
Pullman Company, lighted with gas, and in point of finish 
and appointments, are conceded to be the finest in the 
country. 

ALL MEALS EN ROUTE ARE SERVED IN THE FAMOUS 
BURLINGTON DINERS. 



REFERENCES. ••^^^>- BRAOSTREET'S COMMERCIAL AGENCY 

^ PEOPLES NATIONAL BANK, DENVER, COLO. 

* WESTERN BANK, DENVER, COLO. ^mC» 

PUEBLO NATIONAL BANK, PUEBLO, COLO. ^T* 

AMERICAN NATIONAL BANK, SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH. 

WM. GELBER Zl G0. 

./IDining anD 
General Broilers 



207, 208, 209 
BOSTON BUILDING 



DENVER, COLORADO. 

We have both Dividend Paying and Speculative Mining Stocks. 
By dividend paying, we mean properties that are opened up sufficient 
to warrant the assertion that the dividend will be continued for many 
years. By speculative, we mean stocks in companies which are de- 
veloping properties which have large prospective value, and where the 
chances are about even to lose part of the investment or to make from 
ten to one hundred fold. We keep good men in the field, constantly 
learning and reporting on properties, and we do not sell stock in any 
company unless we are thoroughly familiar with the property and 
know the management to be men of standing and integrity. if you 
want to know anything about mines and mining stocks write to us, 
we can do you good. see page as 



[The 



Mysterious Magazine that reads like ! 
an open book. 



SREAT 
DIVIDE 



Sing-le copies, 10 cents, at all news-stands. Sub- 
'scnption, $1 a year, including IQ gemstones 
' Visit our oflice and see them. You'll not reg-et it' 
' We're on the ground floor. THE GREAT DIVIDE, 

' i5i6Arnnahoe St., Denver, Colo. 



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Like Peace and 
Prosperity, go to- 



"^i°i'. gether. A person 

ip^o who loves one must 

" u/ant the other, and 

we sell the Best 

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the world. 

THE 
KNIGHT- 
CAMPBELL 
MUSIC 
CO. 



Sixteenth and California Sts. Denver, Colo. 



HOTELS 

Omaha, Neb. 

"THE MILLARD" 



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